


Modern Dreams (Past Endeavors)

by TT_Angst_Queen



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (spoiler, 40's bucky barnes, Angst, Avengers Family, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Body Dysphoria, Both of them are out and proud, Bucky Barnes & Sharon Carter Friendship, Bucky Barnes is Hella Gay, But also, Depressed Steve Rogers, Fox news and reporters are dicks in this im not gonna lie, Gay Bucky Barnes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Its the plane), LATER, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sharon Carter is an Actual Person and Not a Barbie in this fic, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve is an Angst Muffin, Steve needs some goddamn Therapy, Steve please get help, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Well first off Bucky is his own grand-uncle, and Steve Rogers will fuck your shit up, and im damn well fixing their stupid mistake, and wont get him any, because Marvel ruined her character, but SHIELD are dicks, like you will really hate them, modern media sucks, no beta we die like women, on national telivision, please, plz tell me if i forgot anything, sharon is a good bro, women die gracefully FYI
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: Bucky Barnes, Hella Gay, and hella out and proud, has a problem.A Steve Rogers Shaped Problem. He's crushing so hard on the Superhero that his sister mocks him for being in love with their grandfathers best friend. (Bucky refuses to admit he is jealous of the original Bucky Barnes because being jealous of a man (his grans big brother) that fell of a train was so not kosher.)So Bucky meets a new friend, and life seems to get a little better, until he's stood up and he runs into mister America himself.The rest of course is history.Well-Quite literally, if you count the fact that 12 dates, hundreds of kisses, plenty of fun between the sheets, and one stupid ass villain with Too Much Power later, decided to throw Bucky into the past and turn him into a child.Aaaaaand- Bucky's his own grand-uncle now.Crap.(Aka this was gonna be a BB but it will be too big for that so I'm posting it now and doing another)Edit: title changed from "while I'm alone and blue as can be (dream a Little dream of me)"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Are you 18+ and Want to join in a group dedicated to Bucky Appreciation? Join my Server on Discord, here: 
> 
> https://discord.gg/h2zTtzT
> 
> Hope to see you soon!

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Bucky, look! Your boyfriends on the TV!”

Bucky shoved his sister gently in the shoulder, glaring at her. She just laughed and shoved him back, making him grunt.

“Shuddup, Becca,” the brunet protested, “He’s not my boyfriend!” 

 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he tried not to prove his sister right and keep his eyes from the TV, but alas, he failed (like usual) much to his little sister’s delight.

Looking at the TV, brows furrowed, Bucky took in the sight of the angelic blond, blue eyes looking sternly at the reporter who was speaking to him.

Bucky loved everything about the man; from his blue eyes that sparkled like the bluest oceans, to his blond hair that shone like spun gold in the sunlight. His nose was long and angular and looked like he had gotten into more than a few fights pre-serum to have it still a bit crooked like that, and his cheekbones were sharp, his jaw square and set. The man's body was a thing of beauty as well- his shoulder to waist ratio was insane, and Bucky had more than once thought about eating him like the Dorito he looked like.

But it wasn’t just the looks of Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America, that he was enamored with; it was the man behind the looks, the glamour, the red-white-and-blue. Steve Rogers was so much more than a man with a shield (that was like a red white and blue target saying, “shoot me!” really, and Bucky had the urge to strangle the man for his lack of self preservation).

Steve was a man that stood up for what he believed in, even if the majority of people disagreed. Steve Rogers stood up to bullies of all shapes and sizes, and didn’t back down even when the odds were stacked against him, much to Bucky’s dismay. Steve stood up for what was right and he protected people without asking for a thank you or a reward- even when offered a reward he would refuse it; and that right there was reason enough to love the man.

 

Bucky had grown up on his grandma’s stories of ‘little Steve Rogers’ and his friend Bucky Barnes; Bucky himself was named after him; the original Bucky being his grandma’s brother- his great uncle. Bucky even looked like Sergeant James Barnes- he was the spitting image; so much so that it sometimes confused his grandma when she was having a difficult day.

So, Bucky had grown up on stories of the ‘real’ Steve Rogers, and not the caricature that the media harped on about, or the hero in the History books.

Bucky had grown up on stories of back-alley fights and a tiny blond spitfire that would stand up for the little guy and would keep getting up every time he was pushed down. He grew up on stories where Steve would come home with split lips and black eyes and say;  _ ‘It ain’t right, treatin’ a guy like that, Becs, you should love who ya’ love, an’ nobody should have tha’ right to say otherwise.’ _

Bucky was not ashamed to admit Steve Rogers was the biggest reason why he was proudly out of the closet and didn’t care about the opinions of others. Steve Rogers was his first -and so far only- crush, and by this point, Bucky was only lying to himself that it was  _ ‘only a crush Becca, shut yer’ gob’. _

He was 100% in love with Steve Rogers and he was stubbornly denying it.

Because why would Steve Roger want the ghost of his best friend?

“… _ and I think it’s horrible that being LGBTQIA+ - that is the term now right? Okay- Is still something that people should fear coming out about. I woke up in the future and they told me that things were a lot better- but if people are still afraid to come out about their sexuality, then I think that there is still a lot more change that needs to happen. We can do better.” _

 

_ “But a lot of people would say that is against proper American values, Captain; what about the children who look up to you?” the reporter from Fox News almost shoved the microphone in Steve’s face.  _

 

_ The blond frowned at the woman, and gave her a stern look that made her step back a bit.  _

 

_ “‘Proper American Values’ are to be free. Hiding who you are isn’t freedom, ma’am, it’s fear. Nobody should fear being free and truthful about themselves. Why is it that plenty of other countries have embraced LGBTQIA+ relationships, while America still fights against them? Aren’t we supposed to be progressive?” _

 

_ “Well, yes, but-” the reporter stammered, clearly embarrassed. _

 

_ “Then why are so many Americans fighting to stay in the dark ages? Love is Love, and anybody who says otherwise, well,” Steve straightened, and looked directly into the camera, “Calling yourself a true American is a lie. Being free is being true , and you can’t be free if you try to get others to lie because can’t handle the truth. I don’t like bullies, and anybody who tries to tell someone they can’t love somebody because of their organs or their sexuality, you’re a bully. I fought against the biggest bullies the world had seen in a long time, and they tried to destroy a certain group of people that had beliefs they didn’t like, and we fought against them,” Raising an eyebrow, Steve spoke the damning question, “Why is this no different? What makes bigots any better than the Nazi’s? I myself am bisexual, and not the least bit ashamed of it. Think on that.” _

 

_ With that, Steve walked away, leaving reporters shouting after him.  _

 

“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes, big bro,” Becca teased, and Bucky glared half-hardheartedly at her.

 

“Shuddup,” he said again, with even less conviction than before.

 

It worked about the same too, since Becca just laughed and went back to her 3DS game. 

 

Bucky sighed as a report on a new health product warning started playing, and went back to his book on mechanical engineering. He couldn’t afford college, but he could damn well teach himself some stuff. 

 

Hopefully he could bury himself in mechanics and forget about his hopeless lo- crush on Steve Rogers.

 

Yeah. Good luck with that. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Clenching his jaw enough that a normal person’s teeth would have cracked, Steve threw all his weight into working on the punching bag, trying to block out thoughts of that reporter and her damn nerve.

 

He hated that even in the future- where things were supposed to have changed, supposed to have gotten better- haven’t changed much at all. Sure, you can get married to a person of the same sex; being gay wouldn’t get you arrested. Being gay wouldn’t get you thrown in a jail cell, true; but you could still get beaten up, and in extreme cases,  _ killed  _ by bigots. Sure, DADT was thrown away- but that didn’t mean that you didn’t get treated differently in the military. Didn’t mean that you weren’t the one to take the riskier missions and used in the tougher situations. They couldn’t out-right discriminate, but they could certainly make it so your life would be a lot harder to live and stay alive. 

 

There was still racism, though not as much, women were respected a lot more, though there was still some sexism, and people with mental illnesses got help instead of thrown in a nuthouse. All that got way better. 

 

So why did loving somebody of the same gender, or being trans, or liking both, not having a gender, or not wanting sex at all- why did that still cause so much dissent amongst people? Why was it still such a problem?  

 

Steve couldn’t understand it. He just… as somebody who was (now openly) bisexual, Steve couldn’t understand the thought behind the bigotry. It just didn’t make any logical sense to him. 

 

He was so focused on the bag he was attempting to demolish, he didn’t hear the footsteps that entered the gym until he heard a cough that made him whirl around, fists raised. 

 

“Whoa, Steve, easy,” Natasha smirked, raising her hands in front of her.

 

“Dammit Natasha,” the blond hissed through his teeth, his hands unclenching. Lowering his arms, he began to unwind the tape from his fists. “Haven’t I told you not to sneak up on me?”

 

“Only like, a million times since last Tuesday,” Natasha teased, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder. 

 

Despite his bad mood, Steve couldn’t help his lips from twitching into a small smile. 

 

“Yeah, well I’m tellin’ you again, Nat.”

 

Steve finished unwrapping his hands, then walked towards the bench, grabbing the water bottle there and taking a big gulp, some of it trickling down from his mouth and landing on his shirt, mingling with his sweat. 

Sighing as he finished the water, he thumped down on the bench, and ran his free hand through his sweaty blond hair that was sticking to his forehead. Licking his lips, he looked up at Natasha. 

 

“Did you need something, or did you just come here to startle me?” Steve asked, dryly. 

 

“Just wanted to tell you you did a good job with the interview,” Natasha shrugged, then shot him a grin, “Though you gave PR heart palpitations when you told the whole world via Fox News reporter that you’re bi.” 

 

Gritting his teeth, Steve set his jaw, raising his chin in defiance. 

 

“I’m not gonna apologize for it, Nat. I’m not gonna hide my sexuality because some bigots decide their word should be law,” Steve shook his head, “and I’m certainly not gonna hide when it’s no longer illegal, this is like a miracle, and it-” Steve bit his lip, his eyes suddenly watery, vision blurring. He gulped in a shaky breath, and Natasha stepped forward, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

 

“Steve? You okay, big guy?” Natasha sat down carefully next to him while Steve heaved in shaky breaths, and he felt a gentle but hesitant hand begin to rub circles between his shoulder blades.

 

Steve shook his head, a wet laugh flying from his lips. The sad sound made the hand on his back stutter for half a second, before resuming. 

 

“Ya’ know, this was all we ever wanted, all we dreamed of; to be able to walk in the streets and kiss and hold hands, and not worry about being arrested for it,” Steve clenched his fist, fingernails digging into his palm almost painfully. “And now that we can, he isn’t- he’s  _ gone _ .”

 

Steve choked on a sob, his body trembling, trying to hold in the emotions that ripped him apart soul-deep. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest, the muscles tight and clenching. 

 

Trying to put a brave face on in front of the press had only cracked open a vault of emotion that he had closed and sealed back in 1945, when Bucky fell. When he lost the other half of his soul. Losing Bucky was like losing his limbs and getting his heart carved out with a rusty nail.

 

It was painful and all-encompassing and when it had happened, he had stayed frozen in shock and agony on the side of that train. When Gabe had come to see what the hold-up was, his fellow soldier had no clue that Steve was seconds away from releasing his grip on that railing and following after the one reason he had for living; his one bright spot in that dark, war-torn world full of blood, horror and fear. Gabe had snapped him out of it, treated him like a skittish colt, and had coaxed him inside. He spent all of five minutes on that train with the gaping hole in the side of it that resembled the equally gaping hole in his heart, while Gabe averted his eyes to his sobbing Leader. 

 

Once he gave himself that five minutes of emotional agony, he schooled his face into a strong mask that he had worn in the middle of battlefields, marching off while Gabe followed. They captured Zola and brought him to HQ. 

 

If anybody noticed that Steve was a bit rougher with the HYDRA scientist, nobody commented; they had all loved Bucky too, even if it wasn’t like Steve had loved him.

 

Seventy years later, one reporter and one interview had managed to shatter his carefully crafted walls and open a vault of emotions he had tried to bury under layers upon layers of duty, strength, and missions. The pain in his chest, in his heart, had never gone away completely, but it had lessened enough that he could not be aware of it every waking moment. Now, it filled his body with agony that he knew was only in his head, but still felt like every nerve was on fire. 

 

“Tasha-” Steve gasped through his sobs, “It hurts- God, it hurts  _ so damn much _ -”

 

Steve was cut of when Natasha turned him around (with a move she couldn't have done without him being this emotional), and pulled his face into the side of her neck, running soft fingers through his hair. 

 

“Shhhh,” Natasha hushed, rocking him back and forth. “I know it hurts,  _ Stepushka _ , let it out,”

 

Natasha continued to mutter soothing words under her breath that almost got lost under the haze of emotional pain that Steve felt all the way to his bones. Slowly, though, he began to calm; more out of exhaustion then of actually feeling any better. The day had been long, between his early morning wake-up call via nightmare, and the interview, and then breaking down. 

 

He was tired down to his bones, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he would ever be allowed to finally rest and let go. 

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn’t sure what made him go to the coffee shop that day when he could have used his sisters ridiculously expensive espresso machine from hell (possibly because the thing was a demon in his opinion and hated him; the thing never made his cup right or outright even made him one in the first place, and his sister refused to listen to his complaints because the demon spawn worked perfectly for her every damn time) but he had seen the bright sunshine and had smelt his sister's latte and decided he was going to go to the little coffee shop down the way from their apartment. 

 

He took his wallet, phone, and his address tag (his Ma had taught them to always have a piece of paper with their address, name, and emergency contact numbers on it, just in case something happened) put on his rainbow-laced sneakers he got from his Ma for his birthday, and slipped on his bright pink leather jacket. Checking in the mirror, he ruffled his hair until it look more like ‘sex hair’ than ‘bed hair’ and walked out the door. 

 

The blast of cool spring air hit him in the face, ruffling his curls. Breathing it in, he smiled, and thanked his luck once again for letting them get the floor apartment whose door led right outside, and down some steps.

Clattering down the steps with a wide smile, he waved across the street to Mrs. Jackie and her son, who were doing their usual morning sweep of the sidewalk, and ambled down the street toward the coffee shop. 

 

Feeling his phone vibrate, he opened the text and rolled his eyes at the latest headline his sister had sent him. 

 

**Captain America: Bisexual? Can We Trust Him With Our Country?**

 

The article went on to speculate on Captain America’s sexuality and how it showed that him lying all this time about it made them wonder if he would lie about everything else, and how it wasn’t good christian and American values that should be taught to children and blah blah blah-

 

It was bullshit, and Bucky almost violently clicked out of the link before sending his sister an angry face emoji, and closing the screen. 

 

Why couldn’t they just leave the poor guy alone already?

 

Bucky was still fuming, not paying much attention to the world around him, when a sudden push and a squeak had him reaching out and grabbing the blur of blond hair that almost bowled him over, along with a hot splash of coffee that thankfully didn’t land on him. 

 

“Woah, hey there,” Bucky chuckled, the blond staring at him with red cheeks as she was held up in Bucky’s arms. “You okay?”

 

The blond looked mortified and nodded, straightening up after Bucky carefully released her, and looking mournfully at her coffee. 

 

“Yeah, but my coffee isn’t,” she sighed, looking up at Bucky with sparkling blue eyes. “You killed my coffee you heathen,” she teased, and Bucky laughed; the girl had spunk- he liked her already. 

 

“I’m so sorry for murdering your coffee, ma’am,” Bucky demurred, his tone teasing, “Shall I buy you another?” 

 

She laughed, throwing her head back, and Bucky had a thought that if he wasn’t hella gay, he might want to date the small blond coffee lover. 

 

“Since it’s definitely not a date, I would love too.” 

 

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky smirked, and the blond nodded to his shoelaces. 

 

“I’m not one for stereotyping, but I've got a gaydar, and you trip it to rainbow, my friend.” 

 

Bucky laughed, and shoved his hand forward.

 

“I’m Bucky,” he smirked, and the blond grasped his hand, returning it. 

 

“Sharon,” she replied, “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

 

They walked together to the coffee shop in comfortable silence, something that Bucky hadn’t thought was possible with a stranger he had literally met a minute before. Sharon just exuded a fun, friendly, and safe vibe, and Bucky found himself strangely liking her even before sharing more than two minutes of conversation. The small blond had an aura about her that drew Bucky in.

 

If Bucky wasn’t 100% sure he was flaming, he would think he had a huge crush on her. But to be honest; Sharon reminded him of his Aunt Peggy, now that he thought about it. They shared the same aura - it was uncanny. 

 

Holding the door open for Sharon, which got him a raised eyebrow, he followed her into the almost empty cafe and walked right up to the counter, no line-up in sight. Which wasn’t unusual for this cafe in this time of day; it wasn’t a well-known place, despite its magical coffee and pastries. 

 

The young guy at the counter looked up and smiled when he saw Bucky, waving. 

 

“Hey, Bucky, you here for your usual?” Oliver asked, redundantly. 

 

“Yeah, Ollie, and-” he looked to Sharon, and she just said;

 

“Straight coffee, no cream or sugar, black as my soul, thanks,”

 

Bucky laughed at that, and Ollie bustled off to fill their order.

 

Sharon looked at him with a teasing smile on her lips, and Bucky sheepishly smiled back. 

 

“Fellow coffee addict, huh?” Sharon snickered.

 

Bucky nodded, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  “Pretty much, and my sisters machine hates me, so I found this place and fell in love.”   

 

“Your sister's machine hates you?” she laughed disbelievingly, “How can a coffee machine hate you?”

 

“Hey!” Bucky protested, “I swear, that thing is the spawn of Satan!”

 

“Whatever you say, big guy.” 

 

“Damn straight,” Bucky huffed, a smile tugging at his lips. 

 

“You? Not really,” Sharon deadpanned, and Bucky threw his head back, his laugh loud enough that Ollie startled down by the coffee machines. 

 

“Oh, I  _ like  _ you,” Bucky gasped through his laughter. 

 

He  _ really _ did. 

 

* * *

  
  


Rolling with the fall, Steve pushed his body forward and ducked to avoid the HYDRA agent that was shooting modified energy blasts at him, one bright blue stream hitting his shield and bouncing off it into a nearby tree, splitting the wood. A creaking sound was heard and Steve dodged out of the way just in time to avoid the tree falling on him. 

 

The HYDRA agent wasn’t so lucky, going by the cut off scream. 

 

Placing a finger on his comm unit, Steve spoke into it, barley winded, but hoping anyways the the others would report that they had each cleared their own areas.  

 

“Avengers, status?”

 

“All clear here, Steve,” Natasha sounded almost bored. 

 

“All’s quiet on the Western front, Capsicle,” was Tony’s smug reply. 

 

“Not a Hydra bitch left, Cap,” Clint crowed.

 

“Copy that,” Steve sighed, shoulders rolling, “Meet up back at the quinjet, I’ve got the files Fury wanted. Cap, out.”

 

Trudging his way through the bushes and mud, Steve felt a nostalgic feeling clench his chest, and he almost turned to his left, looking for Bucky. 

 

When he looked, his chest clenched, not in nostalgia, but in pain, as he, not for the first time, nor the last, realized that Bucky wasn’t there. Wouldn’t ever be there again.

 

Letting out a shuddering breath, he clenched his jaw, shaking his head. Pushing the thoughts into that steel box that was straining with all it contained, Steve trudged on. 

 

When he entered the quinjet, he cast a searching eye around at his team, cataloguing all their scrapes and bruises. 

 

“Anybody hurt?” Steve asked, only to get raised eyebrows from all of them. Rolling his eyes, Steve amended, “is anybody hurt  _ seriously _ ?”

 

They all hesitated, seemingly checking if they actually were hurt worse than usual. It made Steve feel a burst of pain for his teammates; that they had gone through enough crap in their lives that they had to actually check themselves to see if they were hurt seriously. 

 

“I think I sprained my finger? And cracked a rib?” Clint looked at his trigger finger mournfully. “Aw, finger,  _ no _ .”

 

“Anybody else?” Steve asked, and they shook their heads. “You sure?” he pressed; because it wouldn't be the first time that they had hid injuries, thinking they were minor when they weren't.  

 

“I might have sprained my wrist?” Natasha asked, and Steve internally sighed, and cursed the Red Room for making Natasha unable to tell mild pain from major. 

 

Stepping towards her, he held his hand out for her to show him her wrist, which she did with a mild glare. Holding the deceptively small limb in his large hands, he carefully prodded and rotated it, until she hissed. 

 

“Yeah, you sprained it pretty bad, ‘Tasha,” Steve huffed, letting her take her hand back. “Your serum should take care of it in a day or two. Until then, ice it and don't use it.”

 

Rolling her eyes, even though he could see a fond glint in her eyes and a small smile on her lips, she replied; “Yes,  _ mom _ .”

 

“If mama Cap is done fussing over the cubs, can we go now? I have a board meeting in a couple hours and Pep will kill me if I miss  _ another  _ one,” Tony whined, and Steve chuckled. 

 

“Yes, Tony, we can go now.”

 

They trudged out of the quinjet when they got back home to the tower, each of them different levels of muddy, dusty and bloody. They each left for their own floor, and Steve made Natasha promise to put some ice and a wrap on her wrist, even though she protested, saying it would heal fast anyways. Steve just shot her a stern look and told her to  _ put the damn wrap on.  _

 

Natasha had looked a little shocked at his language, even as he apologized, but Steve had not been having a good week. Thoughts of Bucky had dominated his mind. He swore he could see his old friend and lover everywhere he went, sometimes even hearing his voice. Steve was high strung. His emotions were messy and all over the place. 

 

The thing was, he had never been given the opportunity to really relax and  _ grieve _ after losing Bucky. After spending five minutes losing his shit, he had gone right back to fighting, then had to fight Schmidt, then crash the plane. Then they woke him up from his seventy year ice nap, and sent him straight back into battle, and he hadn’t stopped, not since he woke up four years ago and was told that that damn blue cube was back. 

 

Steve had never really had time to allow his emotions to sink in, to really deal with the War and all its death and the trauma it had wrought on him. When he was in the War, you didn’t talk about your problems; you sucked it up and you went on fighting, and if you couldn’t do that, you were sent to the nuthouse. 

 

Now, veterans had healthcare options, counselors, therapists, medication, support groups. All the stuff that would have helped  _ more than a few men _ back in his day. 

 

The thing was, all that help? Steve could have used it, when he got out of the ice; after the battle of New York, after SHIELD was found to be compromised. He could have used it after every damn battle. 

 

Steve was informed enough to know, and man enough to admit, that he probably needed help, and could use some pretty hefty therapy. The problem was, he never got the time. SHIELD never  _ let him _ have the time. They sent him and his team on mission after mission, and whenever he inquired into therapy on his downtime that he actually had, he was told that they would  _ see what they could do. _ They never did. 

 

So, yeah; Steve had more than a few issues that he needed to get dealt with. He needed some help, and probably needed some meds. 

 

But he couldn’t get it. 

 

Nobody seemed inclined to help, not even the agency that claimed to  _ want _ to help him.  

 

He went straight to his floor after making sure Natasha and Clint followed his orders and wrapped their injuries in medical. Exiting the elevator, Steve strode into his apartment and practically ran to the kitchen. The blond opened the fridge and grabbed one of the super-high protein and calorie laden drinks that Tony had put together just for him, and drank it down in seconds. He always drank one after a mission, or else he would end up collapsing from the amount of energy he had used a number of hours later, depending on what the mission was. 

 

It was more than a little scary the first time Steve had collapsed after the Battle of New York, but they had shrugged it off as just exhaustion. The third time it happened, they had sent him straight to medical and Tony had brought in some pretty fancy doctors to tell him what was going on.

 

Apparently after seventy years in the ice, his body wasn't used to using that much energy, so it shut down after he relaxed.

 

Tony and the Team had hounded him for months until they realized he could do it without them reminding him and watching his every move. Tony took a bit longer to stop monitoring him constantly through JARVIS, but eventually he conceded to just the normal watching of the Teams vital signs. 

 

Dropping the container in the recycling, Steve walked, this time more calmly, to the living room and practically fell onto the couch, yelping when he felt something hard poke into his back. Reaching behind himself, he pulled out his sketchbook, open to what he had been drawing in watercolor the day before when they left for the mission. 

 

Steve remembered the first time he had seen an inhaler, in the future. He had asked what it was and Tony had told him. Steve had goggled at the genius for long enough that Tony had seemed concerned and ready to call a doctor, but then he snapped out of it and fled back to his floor. 

 

Back in his day, one of those inhalers would have been something he and Bucky would have given anything to get their hands on - just to stop Steve from suffering through long attacks that would exhaust him and make him weak for days. Now you could get one with a prescription by any medical doctor.

 

Steve kind of felt like he needed one, looking at the open sketchbook. His chest felt tight, and his breathing hitched, and his throat felt like it was closing up. Steve’s eyes stung with salty tears and he quickly wiped them away before they ruined the drawing. 

 

Staring up at him through the pages was a grinning picture of Bucky, but not how he remembered him in the forties; no, Steve's mind had decided to draw what Bucky would have looked like in the future, happier, in modern clothes with a modern cut, and eyeliner that Bucky had once confessed to him that he would love to wear if he wouldn't have gotten beat through the floorboards for it by anyone else who saw him with it on. 

 

Bucky looked up at him with kohl-rimmed eyes, wearing a lavender choker and shirt, and a white leather jacket, tight black jeans hugging every curve, and boots with a heel topping it all off. 

 

It was something Bucky would have loved to wear. 

 

Steve wished he could have made it possible. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Bucky, I  _ love _ that choker!” Sharon gushed, giving Bucky a hug as she went to sit down at the table. Meeting each other in the coffee shop had become a regular thing in the past two weeks, and they had developed a close bond, like siblings. 

 

“Thanks,” Bucky grinned, his hand reaching up absentmindedly to touch the velvet purple choker. “I found it and fell in love,” he laughed, and returned the hug. 

 

“You have to tell me where you got it, if they have something like that where you shop,” she sighed, “I want to see what other things they have.”

 

“Would you be able to wear it at work though?” Bucky pointed out.

 

Sharon worked for the government, she told him, and she had mentioned that their dress code was only slightly less relaxed than the SS. He didn’t think anybody at work would be too happy if she came into work wearing a violently colored choker. 

 

“No,” she sighed, pouting, “But I could wear it on my days off,” nudging his leg with her foot, she grinned teasingly at him, “Besides, you pull of that look  _ way _ better than I ever could.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Bucky shrugged, sniffing, “Of course, it’s  _ me _ .”

 

Bucky couldn't keep up the facade for long, and they both burst into giggles. 

 

“So what have you been doing the past few days?” Sharon asked, sipping on her coffee. 

 

“Not much,” Bucky shrugged, “I applied for another job, got rejected again, did a few odd jobs around the neighborhood to help with rent,” Bucky sipped his own coffee, and leaned back in his chair, sighing, suddenly tired. “You know, the usual.”

 

Sharon gave him a sympathetic smile, and placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. “Things will get better, Bucky, I’m sure of it. You just have to wait.”

 

“Good things come to those who wait, right?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at her, and she nodded, her smile soft. “Well, I hope I don’t have to wait too long, then. I hate living off my mom’s goodwill.”

 

“Bucky,” Sharon sighed, “Your mom is a pretty rich person. You should really enjoy living that way while you can. You never know what can happen.”

 

Bucky snorted. “Do you know something I don’t, Share’? Cuz that almost sounded predictive.”

 

Sharon laughed and shook, her head, Bucky missing the small flash of guilt in her eyes. 

 

“Of course not, Buck. I’m just saying, most people would kill to live the way you do; don’t take it for granted. It can be gone just as quick as you blink, I’ve seen it happen before.”

 

“I know,” Bucky nodded, biting his lip, “I just... I hate mooching of my Ma’s hard-earned money.”

 

“You work just as hard, James,” Sharon pointed out, using his first name for emphasis, narrowing her eyes. 

 

“Yeah, but-” Bucky tried, but Sharon shook her head. 

 

“No  _ but’s, _ Bucky. You work so hard to pay her back, don’t minimize that. You’re a good person; some people would just mooch and not feel guilty at all.”

 

Reluctantly, he nodded. “That is true,” He grudgingly admitted.  

 

“Damn right.” Sharon grinned. “Now, tell me, have you met anyone yet?” 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, blushing.

 

“No, and I don't want to right now, Shar,” Bucky told her, repeating the same thing he told her for what seemed like the thousandth time.

 

“But  _ why _ ? Look, at you,” she waved her hand at him, making him both blush and preen, “you could have any guy you want, Bucky, easily!” 

 

“We've been over this Shar, you know why,” Bucky sighed, picking at his muffin.

 

“Bucky…” Sharon let out a sad breath, “it's not fair to you, you can't just put your life on hold for-”

 

“Stop, please,” Bucky looked at her with pleading eyes. She did, mouth snapping shut, then twisting into a sad frown. 

 

“Shar, I can't help how I feel and-” Bucky nibbled on his bottom lip, the flesh stinging a little. “And I don't really want to change that. I just, I feel a connection to him. I can't explain it, but I do.”

 

Sharon just shook her head and breathed in, looking down. Then she lifted her head and smiled, and if the expression looked a little forced, neither commented.

 

“So, how's your reading going? Any new tech ideas?”

 

Bucky grasped onto the subject change with a grip like a dying man.

 

He knew his love for Steve Rogers was hopeless, but he didn't want anyone pointing it out.

 

He already knew.

 

He didn't need to be reminded.

 

* * *

 

Steve had been sitting around ( _ I’m not moping Natasha shuddup _ ) his apartment in Stark Tower and drawing random sketches he didn’t pay too much attention to. His hand was moving separately to his brain, strokes on the paper smooth and practiced. 

 

His mind was more on thoughts of the past, as what was usual lately. Specifically, on one James Buchanan Barnes. Steve just couldn’t get his past lover out of his head, lately. It was driving him and his team nuts, though they hadn’t said anything to his face - yet. 

 

Honestly, Steve was surprised that the only one to say anything to him was Natasha. Steve understood that for most of the team - himself included - expressing emotions and comforting others wasn’t so much something they were not used to, but more something that they had never really learned to do in the first place. 

 

Steve grew up in an era where men being emotional wasn’t excepted and generally and often got you labeled as a fairy. 

 

Clint was raised by alcoholics and his deadbeat brother and a circus. 

 

Thor was raised to hold his pride in face of any other emotions, though he was getting better.

 

Tony grew up with an alcoholic father that showed him neither love nor attention, and a mother that only paid enough attention to him to show little Anthony Stark off to her high society friends.

 

Bruce had an abusive father and an absent mother. 

 

Natasha was raised and trained by the Red Room, emotions burned out before they could fully form. 

 

They were all getting better at it, clearly, but it still surprised him that Natasha was the first to confront Steve, and break down his parchment-thin walls that had been getting thinner as time went on. 

 

Natasha, who many believed to be cold and heartless, incapable of emotion. Natasha, from whom Steve had first learned that it was okay that he was bisexual, he wasn’t sick, or perverted, he wasn’t going to be struck down by lightning, or arrested, or sent a blue ticket straight to the conversion therapy chair.  

 

Natasha, who had held Steve while he cried. Natasha was the one that accepted him first, who went out of her way to make him feel a part of the team. Natasha, who would always seem to know when he needed space, or he needed company, even if all she did was sit and read a book in his presence while he stared blankly into space, or sketched yet another portrait of Bucky. 

 

He could never capture Bucky right, that sparkle in his eyes, or the mischievous twist to his lips. But he continued, hoping that he would finally capture him perfectly, and would have a picture of the Bucky he knew before the war reached in and clawed at their souls, making their smiles grim and their laughter short and forced. He wanted a Bucky still innocent of blood and gore and death. The Bucky he had fallen for, and the Bucky he had hoped to join when he crashed into the ice.

 

He never felt like the hero that everyone said he was. The perfect image of Captain America who stood for truth, justice, and the American way. What was the American way? Those reporters at Fox news seemed to think it was about bigotry and hate. If that was the America that people expected him to stand for… what did that say about him? A hero who stood for the opposite of what he was supposed to? Did that make him a hero at all, or did that make him a villain? 

 

Sometimes, he would look in the mirror, and expect to see that skinny punk from Brooklyn, the one that stood up for the little guy unless it was himself, the skinny punk that would throw himself into a fight without thinking to protect someone that couldn’t, or wouldn’t protect themselves. The skinny guy who coughed up a lunk walking up a flight of stairs and got sick from the slightest breeze, who couldn’t keep a job because he was always sick, who made a living off of drawing pin-ups and war posters, who painted signs to earn a bit of extra cash so he could buy Bucky a gift for their anniversary, wrapping it in newspaper. 

 

He would look in the mirror sometimes, expecting to see ribs and sharp hip bones, shallow cheeks and sickly pale flesh. He would expect to see a 5’4 bag of bones. 

 

He would always recoil when all he saw was inhuman perfection, a body too big and too perfect to be natural. He would panic for five seconds before his brain would remind him that this was his body now - he didn’t steal it. 

 

Though, he sometimes hated the procedure that had taken his old one. 

 

The one that had fallen for Bucky. 

 

The one that Bucky had fallen for.

 

The one that had buried his mother.

 

The one he had lost, that had been taken from him in a blinding flash of light and pain that he hoped to never experience again.

 

Steve Rogers was no hero. 

 

That was Captain America.

 

Steve was just a queer kid from Brooklyn with PTSD and a stubborn streak that should have gotten him killed. 

 

 

* * *

 

Bucky checked his watch one last time, sighing when it didn’t tell him what he already knew; Sharon clearly wasn’t coming. 

 

Jumping slightly as his phone buzzed in his hand, Bucky opened the text and frowned. 

 

_ Srry! Emerg came up at wrk, no idea h/l i will be, gtg ttyl!  _

 

_ -Sharon _

 

Hanging his head, Bucky texted back an affirmative, and turned the screen off. Biting his lip, the brunette took a look at his surroundings, at Central Park, and sighed when he realized that he now had no clue what he was supposed to do now. He had cleared the entire days schedule to hang out with Sharon, and now that his plans were dashed, he had no clue what to do. They were supposed to go for a run around the park a few times, then go shopping for a bit, then Sharon said she wanted to go to that new action movie coming out. 

 

Looks like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. 

 

Looking around, Bucky walked and took a seat on the nearest bench, tilting his head back, mindful of his choker (Sharon bought it for him, it was a nice lavender, velvet and leather one). Basking in the sun's rays, and breathing in the fresh air, Bucky listened to the sounds of birds chirping in and trees rustling. 

  
He barely registered the sound of a runner until he heard a choking sound, and a voice strangled out; “ **_Bucky_ ** ?!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter while I work on my Three BB's, two Bingo's, and other nine WIP's

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve was taking his usual morning jog around Central Park, trying to shake off the dream he had had the night before. Usually, he had dreams of the War, or of New York, and plenty of times, about Bucky falling from the train into the depths of that ravine, his screams ringing in his ears as Steve turned his face away, buried it into the cold steel siding of the train. He didn’t want to watch Bucky hit the bottom. He was glad that even with his enhanced hearing, he couldn’t hear the sound of his lovers broken body hitting the rocks at the bottom over the sound of the rushing wind and the train.  

 

He hadn’t gotten on a train since. 

 

His dreams usually were just memories replaying themselves in his head, all the worst parts of the War and the Battle of New York, the people he couldn’t save, and the lives that were lost in front of his eyes. 

 

But this time, his dream was different. This time, he dreamed that he hadn’t turned his face away. He dreams that he had seen Bucky’s body his the rocks at the bottom, had seen his body break and heard the sick crunch of gravity as it impacted his lovers form.

 

He had  woken up and had barely made it to the toilet before he had thrown up what felt like the last weeks worth of meals. 

 

Steve had spent almost two hours panting and trembling by the toilet bowl as he regained control of his stomach and his mind, trying to forget the sound that would most likely haunt his waking hours for a long time to come. 

 

He wasn’t quite successful, and decided he would try his usual form of self-therapy. Hence being in Central Park running. 

 

He had been coming up to one of the benches by the paths, absentmindedly looking at the form sitting on the bench. At first the face of the form didn’t register, not used to seeing it, not  _ expecting _ to see it, ever again, but something made him really take a look at the face, and he almost tripped and fell on his face, but stopped himself, gasping out the name the face belonged to with anguished shock. 

 

“ **_Bucky_ ** ?!?” he gasped, and the person with his lovers face looked up, brows furrowed. The look was like a punch to the gut, because he  _ remembered _ that look. He  _ drew _ that look, hundreds of times. The look bucky would get when something would surprise and confuse him at the same time, something that happened so rarely that Steve had obsessively drawn it so he would never forget it. Bucky had never seemed surprised by anything in life, very rarely did that look grace his perfect, lovely face. 

 

The persons lips parted, and his eyebrows shot up when he took a look at Steve, eyes shooting wide and shocked.

 

“Uhm, yes, but- not really I mean- Captain Rogers uh, I-” the man was stuttering over his words in a painfully familiar way that Bucky had done when he had first met him, and another shooting pain went through his chest, and for a moment, he thought the Serum had failed and his heart was giving out. 

 

* * *

 

The last thing Bucky had expected when he had looked up was Steve Rogers himself, and Bucky found himself stuttering, his usually confident and assured tone so far gone it was halfway to mars. He felt guilt shoot through him as he looked into the blue eyes of his crush. Those eyes were filled with anguish, and pain. But nothing made Bucky feel more guilt then the utter raw  _ hope _ in the eyes that overshadowed the pain. Hope that was slowly dying and being extinguished as Bucky continued talking.

 

“No, I mean, yeah people call me Bucky and I do have the same name as him but, he was my Grand-Uncle and, ya know, they named me after him cos’ I was the first boy born in the family since then and Nona insisted.” Bucky rambled, watching with guilt as Steve’s hopeful look began to turn to sadness. “I mean I was told I look like him and I’m so sorry you have to see me and I feel like I’m just making this worse so do you want me to go? I can go,” Bucky stood up quickly, trying to avoid Steve’s eyes, not wanting to see more pain in his crushes eyes. Hands wringing with anxiety he almost never felt this badly, Bucky stepped away from the bench and took a few steps back, shaking his head. 

 

“I am so sorry, Mr. Rogers, I’ll just go and you never have to see me again, or I’ll try but I live in Brooklyn with my sister Becca and I can try but like, Brooklyn's not that big and-” Bucky was about to dart away when he felt a large, warm hand land on his shoulder, and his mouth snapped shut, and against his better judgment he found himself looking into a pair of blue eyes the still looked sad, but now was colored by amusement at Bucky’s rambling. 

 

“You’re Bucky’s Grand Nephew?” Steve asked quietly, a curious tilt to his head.

 

“Yes,” Bucky squeaked, his throat tight. 

 

“That’s…” Steve looked lost for words for a moment, his eyes gazing around Bucky’s face, seemingly drinking in every identical detail. 

 

“That’s really… swell,” Steve smiled sadly. 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we have a short update and our two bois talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, RL has been a bitch and other things had caught my muse in a net, and I was writing the bb!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bucky bit his lip, looking up at Steve through his lashes, and he nodded. Bucky wasn’t convinced that his presence wasn’t causing Steve a great amount of emotional pain. Bucky couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to see the face of his dead best friend from childhood. Bucky knew that there was a lot that must have been going through Steve’s head behind those beautiful blue eyes, much more than was being shown already.

 

"I'm really sorry," Bucky apologized, "I couldn't imagine- I mean seeing me must be like, really hard, and you already have so much to deal with right now," Bucky hissed through his teeth "and now I'm just adding to it-"

 

"Bu- Bucky, Stop," Bucky didn't fail to notice Steve stumbling over his name, but chose to ignore it.

"Please, you haven't done anything wrong," Steve sighed, putting his hands in his pocket and giving Bucky a small, crooked smile that made his traitorous heart flip in his chest. "It's not your fault that you look like him, and I doubt you knew I was here and decided to see my reaction,"

 

"I would never," Bucky swore, looking at Steve earnestly.

 

"I may not know you very well yet, but from what I've seen so far, I doubt you would."

 

"...yet?" Bucky hesitantly asked, his stomach feeling like it was full of butterflies.

 

Steve blushed, looking down to the ground and toeing the cement. It was so adorable and 'aw shucks' it made Bucky have to force himself not to clutch his chest.

 

"Well, I'd like to get to know you better, if that's okay? not just because you're his grandson, or that you look like him-"

 

Bucky laughed, "It's okay Steve, I know you're not that kinda guy," Bucky assured him, "and, I'd like to get to know you better too."

 

Steve's face lit up, the smile bright, yet Bucky knew that the expression wasn't the brightest it could be. Thinking back to the exhibit at the Smithsonian, Bucky remembered the bright smile that Steve had given Bucky- the first Bucky- and knew that _that_ was the Sunshine Smile; The smile that Bucky wanted to see in real life, not just on an old black and white film reel. Bucky wanted to be the cause of that smile returning.

 

Bucky felt a stab of guilt at his thoughts; he wasn't his grandfather, and he wasn't trying to replace him, but trying to return the smile that Steve used to give to Sergeant Barnes felt almost like a betrayal to his grandfather, even though Bucky knew the feeling was irrational.

 

"Do you have a cell phone?" the brunette asked, bringing out his phone and opening the contacts.

 

Steve brought out his own phone and sheepishly handed it to him.

 

"Haven't quite figured out how to add contacts yet, it's one of Tony's phones and everyone just somehow has my number anyways, so I never added any, myself,"

 

Bucky laughed, taking Steves phone and typing in his number and, after a moments thought, his first name instead of his nickname. according to his grandmother, her brother had hated "James", so hopefully Steve would be more comfortable with it, then his nickname, even though he himself loathed the name himself.

 

"Let me guess," Bucky gave Steve a conspirational smile, "nosey friends with no boundaries?"

 

Steve nodded, grinning.

"You sound like you know how it feels."

 

Bucky pouted, nodding his head.

 

"I have a sister, so totally."

 

Steve bit his lip, looking hesitant.

 

"Would her name happen to be Rebecca, too?"

 

Flushing, Bucky nodded his head yes.

 

"I'm sorry..." Bucky whispered, and Steve shook his head, his eyes looking sad.

 

"As I said before, Bu-Bucky, it's fine," Steve took a breath through his nose, "It's just...Hard, a blast from the past, you know?"

 

"But... it wasn't really that long ago for you, was it? not even five years? Sorry, I'm sure you really don't want a stranger pointing it out-"

 

"You're right," Steve cut him off, smiling gently, but watery. "It's still pretty fresh... and I need to talk about it sometime probably soon," Steve admitted, "but for right now, I'm not ready."

 

"My ma woulda' boxed my ears if she heard me ask you that," Bucky admitted, "So I'm sorry, really."

 

"Coffee?" Steve asked suddenly, and Bucky raised his eyebrows.

 

"A wonderful gift from the gods?" he ignored Steve's obvious subject change.

 

Steve huffed out a laugh.

 

"I mean, do you want to get coffee sometime? I have work in an hour but-"

 

"Yes!" Bucky blurted, and Steve grinned.

 

"How about Saturday at 10 am? we can meet here?"

 

"I would love to! I-I mean yes, yes, um, yes."

 

Steve chuckled, looking at his phone when it let out a beep.

 

"Perfect, see you then Bucky," Steve gave him a pat to the shoulder, then jogged out to the sidewalk where a black car was waiting with the goddamn Black Widow in it.

 

"Hey," the redhead smirked at him, and he dazedly stuttered out a response before they drove away, leaving Bucky Standing there, grinning like an idiot.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Are you 18+ and Want to join in a group dedicated to Bucky Appreciation? Join my Server on Discord, here: 
> 
> https://discord.gg/h2zTtzT
> 
> Hope to see you soon!


End file.
